


PART I: BUCKY

by poly_avenger



Series: Bucky Barnes Is (Not) The Winter Soldier [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, At Least Kinda Recovery, Bucky Barnes is Not the Winter Soldier, Dark, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, yes both
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28481628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poly_avenger/pseuds/poly_avenger
Summary: When Bucky is found, everyone is happy. Everyone but the person that still needs to figure out if they're Bucky or James or a weapon - or none of the above.Taking on the name of James "Bucky" Buchanan Barnes, the former Winter Soldier tries to connect with their past - while they're less and less sure if they even are that person in the past Steve is talking about.
Series: Bucky Barnes Is (Not) The Winter Soldier [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086236
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The asset is found.

When they find him, he’s not even on a mission. But then again, there seem to be no more missions.

He doesn’t know how he got here but he keeps coming – he thinks, because this is a want that’s so deep, he can’t possibly imagine to not have given in more than once in the past – and he stands next to the grave. Only after checking the surroundings, of course. Running from HYDRA didn’t clear his head as much as he thought it would, he keeps forgetting days and concepts and what he had for lunch (or sometimes, the idea of lunch). But still, he’s taking care of the protection necessary to stay alive. Maybe, he’s even starting to feel himself again lately. There are more parts on his body that are fine than those that are hurting – a rare treat in those last years, he knows that much. At least his body seems to remember. The asset’s breathing is more relaxed now than after a successful kill. It all slowly starts to make sense.  
The name on the tomb, _James Buchanan Barnes_ , doesn’t even make him blink. It’s the next line, added like an afterthought by someone pushing something sharp into the stone by sheer force of will but with the grace of an engraver repeatedly – _Bucky_ – that makes him want to come here over and over again. _Bucky_ – someone once called him that, so much pain in their voice that the asset was shocked enough to freeze for a second. (The asset takes a second to acknowledge the fact that the pronouns are shifting again, lately it really is rather _he_ than _it_ but that might change again – but the asset is getting used to it. This will not destroy it.)

The asset is just becoming comfortable in his own thoughts when the lights go on. Cold lights, bright as the sun as they blind him when they are switched on and the soldiers start to close in. The asset has no idea how they closed in on it so quickly. It needs to respond- He needs to-  
When it goes for the weapons, it is hit by a force it can’t even begin to give an impression to. In all its years, it never felt something like this. A huge silhouette disappears into the dark when a high voice calls out for it – this voice suddenly feels familiar as well. But before the asset can figure out which one of the enemies found it, the system shuts down, leaving its mind alone in the dark.


	2. A home

The tower had a whole floor for everyone – at least for those Tony Stark counted as friends. The asset had woken up on Captain America’s, and he hadn’t visited the other floors since. Steve had hinted something about Stark being angry about something the asset had done in the past, and since Stark was clearly the Captain’s boss (not his handler, though, he had yet to understand that one), the asset had decided to take some time to breathe before someone new came in to punch the oxygen out of his lungs again.  
He was still in a cell, of course, even though there was only one soldier on the floor – Steve, the asset slowly became used to the name – and the cell was made up by a whole assortment of rooms bigger than the flat he had grown up in. It knew that much because Steve told him all the tales, starting the moment he slowly came back to consciousness and he hadn’t stopped since. The asset just sat back and listened, then. The windows were no escape, and the lift was only going to make him meet more handlers at once. For now, staying here was the smart choice. The asset was playing the long game. It always did.

On the thirteenth day, he had stopped retreating when Steve wanted to be in the same room with him. There was only one kitchen, after all, but big and open – and after realizing there was definitely no poisoned food, the asset had started to make two meals a day. Steve kept pressing for three, or for shared meals, but he accepted nonverbal Nos from the asset. But he knew this had to be temporary, so he let Steve sit by the table when he came in while it was cooking the next day.  
“Are you making eggs?”, Steve asked. It felt louder because the room was wide and modern and mostly without furniture, and because Steve had rather told the room than the asset, but it knew what to do anyway.  
“I can share and make more later”, it said easily, automatically. Higher voice, more melody. It was backed into a corner with the only food it could access – pleasing was the way to go. After all, there were enough eggs. And maybe Steve would be happy enough to leave it at one request.  
Steve laughed, causing a strange reaction of both fear and reassurance in him. ”I had breakfast hours ago. Just wanted to know what food I should order more of today. Is there more stuff you want?”  
The asset thought. This didn’t seem like a trick question. It had asked for eggs when Steve clearly wanted to know one thing it wanted to eat a few days ago so it was sure the eggs in the fridge were meant for it. There were other things there, like greens that seemed to be for eggs – it had seen it when the computer had shown him how to make scrambled eggs on his request. There were a lot of other things as well but those were clearly Steve’s.  
“No”, it said, and eagerly, when it realized that it had forgotten, “Thank you.”  
He breathed easily into the silence that followed when Steve smiled and accepted the answer. The eggs were beginning to get dry, so he put them on a plate and collected himself. 

It was probably expected that he sat on another chair at the table. He slowly approached Steve and picked the chair with the most distance to him.  
“Do you remember the eggs we made that winter when we were sick at the same time?”, Steve asked.  
He didn’t but he took his time thinking until he shook his head. There were a lot of pictures in his mind featuring Steve but he was fighting him in all of them. Steve-  
Steve smiled again. “Do you want to hear the story? You’ll remember it all in time, but it was a nice time.”  
He nodded, happy to provide an answer that would make Steve happier than his lost memories.  
“Eat”, Steve said, and suddenly he seemed so irritated that the asset quickly picked up his fork, concentrating on eating. But it made sure to look at Steve, to nod every time there was a short break in the story, laugh when Steve was laughing.  
And after a while, the relaxation came back. He slowly was able to listen to Steve’s words again, and he pictured the small flat and Steve close to him, and suddenly, for a short moment, that picture was something that he could very well imagine returning to.


	3. The mechanics of personal relationships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James realises Steve wants a relationship with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're entering the later chapters with some new content notes here, be careful please. New CN category is very grey consent to sex (implicit for now), to kissing and to broader relationship stuff in general. I started warning for non-con to be safe. New CN is also disordered eating.

A few weeks later, Steve was very quiet over dinner. He took note of the asset offering topics to talk about but reacted so rarely the asset took it as a sign to be quiet instead. The last weeks had been so calm it dared to do that now – the job of taking care of its handler seemed to include more varieties of making its own decision than it was comfortable with, but the amount of punishment had been so minimal it was very eager to continue trying.

Finally, Steve put his empty plate away from himself and closer to the center of the ridiculously big tabletop of his dinner table they were sitting at. “I don’t think I like yourself using that on yourself.”  
The asset ran some calculations on what he could mean but it came up without answers. Steve looked at it in his irritated-worried way, and the asset quietly took note how this only seemed to cause about ten per cent fear and only some discomfort at this point. It wasn’t an answer though. Probably the topic of “enough food” again. It had come up sometimes at this hour.  
“Using what?” It asked. “It’s in the manual. The asset requires only the amount of calories it needs-”  
“No”, Steve interrupted. “It-pronouns. I know they’re a queer thing but at the same time they can be understood as a dehumanizing thing and I’m pretty sure this is that.”  
“I’ve been mostly doing this since I arrived”, the asset observed, carefully to point this out in its voice, not getting to far into arguing territory. “It is very normal for me.”  
“Please-” Steve stopped and sighed. “I know it's neutral for some people. I'm also very sure it isn't neutral for you. What are your feelings towards he-pronouns? You also seemed to use them sometimes, mostly when you were in a good mood. How do you feel about doing that more often? What about a sentence like ‘Bucky has a very good feeling about how many calories he needs but I want him to slowly learn how to enjoy food instead’?”  
There was a shiver through _his_ shoulders. He shook his head. 

Steve looked like people looked when they had accidentally left _his_ cell open. “It doesn’t have to-”  
“It works”, the asset interrupted quickly. Interruption was allowed as long as it led to a swifter solution to whatever problem was faced. “The data on using the pronoun set of _he_ is neutral. I will try to use those from now on if that is favorable.”  
Steve smiled.  
The asset held back a sigh and tried to smile back reassuringly. “The data on the name _Bucky_ , however, rather causes feelings normally-abled human beings would classify as a headache.”  
Steve’s smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. Oh No.  
“The name _James_ doesn’t fit these criteria though”, the asset said, almost stumbling over his own words. “Neutral data there gives a lot of space to improvements, and we could take this name as… a starting point.”  
There was still the impression of a shadow over Steve’s face but he was smiling again. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

 _James_ felt his body slowly leave the state of emergency. This was manageable. He would be okay. 

***

They watched a movie after dinner. They had done this before, and James was getting more comfortable with the noises of shooting and watching fictional people handling weapons in the most ridiculous ways while somehow managing not to die on the spot.  
Steve was unusually quiet and didn’t make remarks about the movie like he had done with the previous movies. James remembered him talking about watching movies with “the others”, his fellow Avengers – he was probably angry he had to sit here with James instead of his friends. James hadn’t been allowed to leave the floor for missions yet and Steve was only gone rarely – he considered it impolite (even though the asset was still figuring out towards who that would be). Maybe he should push Steve to meet his friends more often, he would probably be less bored.

Like now, when the movie didn’t seem to distract him from James any longer – Steve’s fingers were moving towards his hands, Steve’s body slowly began to close the space between them.  
James could distinguish the sound of Steve’s jeans touching the softer fabric on the sofa when he moved towards him over the sounds playing with the movie credits without a problem. It was a known set of sounds.  
A wave of cold was running down his shoulders, his mind slowly realizing what this meant while his body was already busy obliging the new task set. James’ fingers betrayed his mind, already intertwining with Steve’s, his heart accelerating but still beating slow enough to perfectly fake attraction.  
He turned to look at Steve – flushed face, hitching breath, correct interpretation – and his face started to smile, Steve mirroring the impression in a picture that would have been wonderful to see on any other day.  
When Steve’s face started to move closer to his, he didn’t hesitate to go closer as well, closing the space between them. Steve’s lips were soft and surprisingly insecure or inexperienced. James wasn’t sure if that was an act – it mostly was – but he wasn’t here to judge. He was here to react.

Steve’s lips left his for a second and he was looking at him like there was a test to pass. James smiled and kissed him back, leaving the teeth for until he knew this was good but concentrating on pushing and using tongue just enough to show enthusiasm. His free hand went for Steve’s hip. That seemed to be a sign because Steve’s hand left his and both hands started to pull him closer, his lips letting go for a second – until he started kissing James in earnest, with more force and abruptly losing his slow rhythm.  
Steve’s hands moved further down his shirt. James closed his eyes for a few seconds, displaying comfort, and felt his body go pliant and limb. Steve was still kissing him, got up and started to move them, dragging him along the living room in the direction of Steve’s. James had never been in there but there was no doubt he would get to know that part of the floor pretty well. He knew how his went. There was comfort in it.

James felt his breath stutter from more than the arousal his body readily supplied when asked for.  
But it was okay. It would be.  
He finally knew the mission.


End file.
